


Talking Dirty

by finx



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Natasha is still a little new to SHIELD, SHIELD cafeteria shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-08 01:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4284705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finx/pseuds/finx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It didn’t occur to Natasha that people would see her leaving Clint’s room every morning and draw their own conclusions. In hindsight, she really should have seen that coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talking Dirty

Natasha only slept in after the really tough missions, and even then only for a couple hours. Clint, on the other hand, would never voluntarily leave his bed until he ran out of food, which was why Natasha stopped by his room every morning to drag him off to the gym.

She’d started going in through the window out of boredom, and for the joy of seeing Clint fall out of bed in confusion at the sight of her upside-down face. She _kept_ doing it out of convenience, since her quarters were almost directly above his and it took ten minutes to go the long way. Privately she hoped somebody would tell Fury, so she could see the look on his face when he tried to explain to the Black Widow why scaling the dorm buildings was Not Allowed.

After a fortnight Natasha was regretfully starting to accept that this would never come to pass. She wasn’t sure if it was because Fury was too smart to try, or because no one had the guts to tell him. It didn’t occur to her that at SHIELD, scaling the buildings just wasn’t against the rules, and as such the security guards hadn’t bothered to report it to anyone.

It also didn’t occur to her that people would see her leaving Clint’s room every morning and draw their own conclusions. In hindsight, she really should have seen that coming.

No one ate lunch in the SHIELD cafeteria unless they were on call or had just come back from a mission. The best that could be said for the lunch food was that it was hot, thick, and filled you up, and the agents eating it were usually either scarfing it down or doing their best not to fall asleep in their plates. Dinner, though a good deal tastier, was for groups of friends to drag the tables together and laugh into the night.

Natasha wasn’t ready to face that quite yet.

Breakfast, however, was a steady stream of light chatter as people headed in from the gym or zombied through the food line after a long night hunched over paperwork or volatile experiments. Natasha had promised Clint she would try to be herself at SHIELD, whoever that was, and that meant no insinuating herself into any friendships, but breakfast was fair game. Breakfast was a time for casual hellos and friendly small talk, and Natasha grinned and joked and asked after Rumlow’s sister and Cale’s pet turtle. If she made Clint join her because she was afraid that without him there, she’d chicken out of her promise and fall into an alias – or worse, run away and hide in her room with the covers pulled over her head – well, no one had to know.

She noticed the looks, and the whispers, and the knowing smiles. She was Natalia Romanova – of course she noticed. But she was trying to be Natasha Romanoff, and Natasha Romanoff didn’t eavesdrop on her coworkers. Much. Maybe a little. Just for self-defense, to know how people felt about her. When Clint wasn’t around to raise his eyebrows at her and smirk in that infuriating way of his.

But the point  _was,_ Natasha clearly didn’t do  _enough_  eavesdropping, because she missed it completely when the rumors spread about her and Clint. She had to hear it from Agent Triplett, who had only been back from his mission for nine hours and yet somehow already had all the gossip, and of course it had to happen at breakfast. “I hear you two have finally gotten over yourselves,” he said as he joined them in line for pancakes.

Natasha snorted. “If by gotten over ourselves you mean stopped bragging about that one time he kept HQ from being blown up, then no, Clint has not gotten over himself.”

Clint raised his coffee in a groggy salute. “She’s right, I haven’.”

“Man, how are you still this sleepy?” Trip asked with a laugh. “Haven’t you been in the gym for the past two hours?”

“She kicked me,” Clint said mournfully. “Inna stomach. I had to lie down.” He yawned. “So I took a nap.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “We were up all night, and he has no stamina.”

Trip choked on his coffee. “Give a man some warning!” he gasped out between coughs. “Damn, they said you were being discreet!”

“They?” Clint said.

“Discreet?” Natasha said.

“I guess my intel is outdated. Cut me a break, though, I just got back from Bangladesh. The guys just said you’d finally gotten together, not that you were bragging about it at breakfast.”

Clint made a garbled noise that might have been swearing. Natasha just went very still.

Trip glanced between them. “Apparently everyone’s talking about it.” He gave an awkward shrug. “I didn’t know it was supposed to be a secret.”

Clint looked like he wasn’t sure whether to be mortified or amused. Natasha gazed out over the cafeteria, picking out familiar faces turned carefully away. She was surprised to feel the corners of her mouth tugging upward.

Clint glanced at Natasha out of the corner of his eye. “Tash?” he asked cautiously.

Natasha turned to him. “Don’t you see?” she said soulfully. “We don’t have to hide anymore.”

Clint stared for a moment, then let a slow grin spread across his face. “I’ve waited so long for this,” he declaimed. He stepped forward to cup her elbow in his hand. “We can finally be together.”

“That’s all I ever wanted,” Natasha cried, clutching dramatically at Clint.

 _“You’re_ all I’ve ever wanted,” he countered. Trip’s eyes were round as saucers, and Natasha could feel the rest of the cafeteria turning to watch.

She gave Clint a wicked smile, grabbed him by the waist, and dipped him. “Oh baby,” he said, adding a little breathlessness for effect. “You’re going to make me spill my coffee.”

“Darlin’,” she answered, “now you’re just talking dirty.”


End file.
